We'll Stumble Through Heaven
by xstormqueenx
Summary: When former companion Vivien Holmes phones the Doctor for help, it's only to threaten all he holds dear, then and now. {Face The Raven, Heaven-Sent & Hell-Bent, AU}.
1. Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking

**Author's Note:** _We'll Stumble Through Heaven_ is part of my Doctor Who/Falling Skies crossover series, the reading order of which is listed on my profile, including one-shots etc. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

* * *

 **Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking**

 _A shadow fell across her skin, flesh, bone and shade reunited. She turned her head slightly, only to see him watching her, watching over her. His face was half shrouded in darkness, but what she saw of his features were as familiar as her own. Despite the distance between them, she could feel the weight of his hand in hers, cradling the universe in her palm._

 _She remembered everything about him except his name._

 _And then there was fire and flame, making her throw her arms across her face, trying to shield herself from their heat and glare. He just stood there, allowing the flames to devour him, almost like it was a privilege. She was screaming the name she didn't know, death dividing them -_

Vivien sat bolt upright, breath coming in huge rasps, sweat beading on her brow. It felt like she had fallen a thousand feet; that she was still falling. Pushing the tangled black hair out of her eyes, she glanced around her, only to see what she woke up to every morning, the flotsam of family life, her husband's collection of books threatening to take over the room entirely. Fighting the urge to throw up, she swung her bare legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for her jeans, the dream slipping through her fingers like sand as her hand closed around a clump of creased denim, reality returning to claim her.

As she finished dressing, there was a polite knock on the door, a sound she would never get used to. Having a housekeeper was something Vivien had never envisioned, but Moira had come with the house, her excellent references almost leaving no room to manoeuvre. But somehow she'd become part of the fabric of Vivien's family, their home hers, sharing more than just the same roof. "Come in," Vivien called, forcing a smile onto her face as Moira briskly entered the bedroom, bearing a tray of tea and scones, before carefully setting them down on the bedside cabinet.

"Jesus Christ," Moira winced as Lilian let out a shriek from downstairs, the sound ringing around the high-ceilinged rooms, "that daughter of yours has got some pair of lungs on her."

"Tell me about it," Vivien agreed, resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears, "why do you think I'm hiding out up here?"

"Tom, toast and a toddler is never a good combination," Moira agreed, eyeing Vivien oddly. "Are you alright?" she asked suddenly, brow furrowing. "You're looking a little rough around the edges."

"When don't I?" Vivien said tiredly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"No, seriously," Moira said, folding her arms across her chest, "you look wiped."

"I feel wiped," Vivien admitted against her will, "maybe I'm coming down with something, I don't know." She glanced over at the tray of tea and scones, her stomach turning, feeling the bile build up again.

"Do you want me call the doctor's and make an appointment for you?"

"No, I'll be alright," Vivien said weakly, forcing another smile, the effort nearly finishing her off.

Moira studied Vivien for a moment, brow furrowing further. "Well, just yell if you need anything," she said uneasily, making for the door, only to wince again as Lilian let out another shriek. "Mother like daughter, eh?" she joked, making Vivien roll her eyes. Then with a flash of tartan skirt and grey cardigan, she was gone, Vivien flopping back on the bed, exhaling sharply, her hand flying to her stomach, the gesture half remembered, making her tense up.

"No," she whispered, remembering now the package she'd hidden behind the bookcase, not wanting Tom to see it. For the past few days, she'd been throwing up, forcing her to finally face the truth, no longer able to ignore what her body was trying to tell her. So yesterday afternoon, whilst Lilian had been at nursery, Tom at a seminar, she'd went to _Boots_ and bought a pregnancy test, but she couldn't remember coming home, even though she'd obviously had.

Sitting up, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she went over to the window, frowning at the tree-lined street below, the image almost superimposed over the memory of another street, the details indistinct, the sight making her head swim strangely. Turning away, she slumped against the wall, her hand flying to her stomach, almost like she was trying to shield it. Despite her denial, she and Tom wanted another baby, but not just now, not when everything was starting to come together.

They'd upped sticks to England the previous year, Vivien suddenly feeling the urgent urge to return to her roots, and so with a baby in tow, they'd exchanged Boston for Britain, a move that had almost cost them their marriage, buying a house that was too grand for such humble beginnings.

Tom had struggled to hold down various teaching jobs, uncharacteristically unable to comprehend the jungles that were inner-city comprehensives, whilst missing his sons who seemed a world away now, Vivien fighting to keep their mouths fed and the bills paid, working unholy hours whilst Tom watched Lilian who was starting to show signs of growing up a complete nightmare, a carbon copy of Vivien when she'd been the same age.

Moira had tried to help, but back then, it had been an us/them ratio, until the day she'd sat Vivien down and poured her a glass of her best brandy, the two of them finishing the bottle off between them, Tom returning home from the park with Lilian later on, only to find them completely sozzled, Moira doing her Winston Churchill impression before passing out on the kitchen tiles.

But two months ago, life had taken an unexpected upturn, Tom securing a permanent position at Birkbeck, heading their history department. They'd went out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate, Vivien wearing her favourite red lace mini-dress, crimson clinging to every curve, her black hair piled high on her head, Tom barely able to keep his eyes and then his hands off her, forsaking the theatre afterwards for the four walls of their bedroom instead, and here she was, nearly puking her guts up, cursing Tom to kingdom come.

Straightening up, she made her way over to the mirror, studying her reflection. Hair black as night. Lips red as blood. Skin white as snow. Snow White, dead and alive all at once. This is who she was now, all she'd ever be. With one last glance at the girl in the mirror, she turned away from the truth, gilding her tongue with lies, forging a future founded on falsehood, only to freeze as time breathed down the back of her neck, its touch the ticking of a clock, counting down.

 _Something happened, that I never understood_ _  
_ _You can't leave_ _  
_ _Every second, dripping off my fingertips_ _  
_ _Wage your war_ _  
_ _Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die_ _  
_ _Well I am scared…_


	2. Storm In A Teacup

**Storm In A Teacup**

 _For once I want to be the car crash_ _  
_ _Not always just the traffic jam_ _  
_ _Hit me hard enough to wake me_ _  
_ _And lead me wild to your dark roads…_

"The second most beautiful garden in all of time and space and we can never go back there, because _you_ , Miss. Oswald" -

\- " _Because_ I totally saved you from having to marry that sentient plant thing," Clara boasted, doing a triumphant twirl around the console. "Did you see that bit where I jumped over the side? That was _amazing_."

The Doctor looked at her for a long moment, before grinning, a wry twist of the lips that Clara liked to see, knowing it meant he approved against his will of her wild actions. They were like a mirror, reflecting one another, two halves of the same coin. He was her, and she was him, the beginning and end of each other.

As he studied her face, fighting the urge to reach out and trace the almost fragile outline of her features with his finger, the phone suddenly started ringing, startling them both, the Doctor doing a double-take. "What?" he said stupidly, taking a step forwards, then back, almost like he was doing a dance.

"It's your phone," Clara pointed out helpfully.

"Well, answer it then."

"But it's _your_ phone."

"If you can take on a talking pot-plant, surely you can answer one little call?" the Doctor said scathingly, his eyebrows suddenly seeming to take on a life of their own, but Clara refused to be intimidated, merely raising her own eyebrows in silent challenge. "Never mind," he said, exhaling sharply, approaching the ringing phone like it was a wild animal, before gingerly picking up the receiver, handling it like it was a hot coal. "Hello?" he said nervously, scrunching up his face, as though in expectation of a physical blow.

"Doctor?" Vivien said, raising her head, the desperate hope in her voice suddenly making her sound younger, like the Vivien from before, the Vivien who hadn't broken his two hearts. She'd been phoning for the past half-hour, praying he would just pick up, her only harbour in the storm that had suddenly blown up about her.

"Vivien?" the Doctor said in disbelief, before turning to Clara, mouthing, "it's Vivien."

"Vivien who?" Clara mouthed back, brow furrowing, the name striking a distant chord.

The Doctor jerked his head at the console, Clara glancing at it, her gaze falling upon the battered photograph blue-tacked to it, its subject a smiling girl about twenty years old, with long black hair falling down to her waist like a waterfall, indigo eyes startling against the backdrop of her bone-white face.

Clara studied it for a moment, the pieces suddenly falling into place, finally remembering who Vivien was from the long parade of companions who had passed through the Doctor's lives, either lost to him or leaving him, Vivien one of the latter, Clara knowing from the scraps of information the Doctor had let slip that Vivien had left him for a life of grinding domesticity, bitterly implying Vivien had made the wrong choice.

"Doctor?" Vivien pressed, unable to restrain the edge of hysteria creeping into her voice, Lilian pausing from bashing her building blocks together, eyeing her mother uncertainly.

"I'm here, Vivien," the Doctor said impatiently, "what's the story? How's Mephistopheles?" He mimed a long flowing beard in Clara's direction, making her mime a moustache in return. "Is little Lilian still the shy and retiring wallflower I remember her to be?" he said sarcastically, looking bored.

"I... I have a tattoo," Vivien said in a rush, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and fore-finger.

"Seriously?" the Doctor said deadpan. "Look, Vivien," he then said, turning away from Clara, "I gave you this number for emergencies, not so we can travel back along that frankly dodgy time-line of yours just to fix some piece of body art that you are now bitterly regretting getting."

"I need you to take a look at it," Vivien said from between gritted teeth, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, fighting the urge to throw up again.

"And why's that?" the Doctor said, rolling his eyes.

"Because I didn't get a tattoo," Vivien said, her voice cracking, "and I can't remember coming home from _Boots_ yesterday, even though I obviously did, and now I've got some bizarre barcode on the back of my neck, counting down to fuck knows what" -

\- "What do you mean it's counting down?" the Doctor demanded, every inch of him suddenly on alert, the change in his demeanour making Clara come over, her eyes widening with worry.

"It's doing precisely just that, counting down," Vivien snapped, the tears springing to her eyes now, "like – like a timer on a bomb."

"Where are you?" the Doctor asked urgently, starting to flap his arms about, making Clara duck out of the way.

"I'm – I'm at the house," Vivien said, standing up again, swapping her mobile to her other hand, the gesture agitated, "Tom's not here, he's away all day at some induction, and Moira's down at the farmer's market" -

\- "Everything's going to be alright, Vivien," the Doctor said firmly "I'm on my way over right now, so just sit tight and calm down. I'm sure it's just a storm in a tea-cup." And with that, he slammed the phone down in its cradle, before kickstarting the console into life, flicking various switches and pulling levers, almost a symphony of movement.

"It isn't a storm in a teacup, is it?" Clara hazarded, circling him, only to stagger as the TARDIS juddered into being. "I can tell by the way your eyebrows are beedling together."

"My eyebrows don't beedle," the Doctor snapped, hitting several buttons in quick succession, "but yes, this is not a storm in a teacup. This is a storm in ten teacups times a very angry teapot plus a missing teabag, Earl Grey to be precise."


	3. Fight Or Flight

**Fight Or Flight**

 _Come on, come on_ _  
_ _Put your hands into the fire_ _  
_ _Explain, explain_ _  
_ _As I turn, I meet the power…_

The Doctor strode into Vivien's living room, not bothering with the preliminaries of knocking, Clara hard on his heels, torn between curiosity and concern. Vivien might have traded adventure for the ordinary, but she was living in style whilst she did it, the house situated in one of London's most sought after boroughs, the sight of its high ceilings and original period features making Clara squirm slightly at the memory of her own council flat.

As Vivien got up from the antique armchair, Clara did a double-take, slightly taken aback. In the flesh, Vivien wasn't quite what she appeared to be in the Doctor's photo; up close, her hair was too black, her eyes too blue, skin too pale. She was dressed like the archetypal wife of an academic, bohemian yet conservative, her hair half pulled back from her face, a string of amber beads hanging around her neck, quietly complimenting her crimson cashmere jumper and designer jeans. Yet it seemed like she was trying too hard to fit in, appearing oddly alien despite her human aspect, something in her sapphire eyes making Clara take an involuntary step back.

"Don't," the Doctor quietly warned her, "she won't bite."

"You never said" -

\- "Never said what?" Vivien snapped, picking Lilian up. "That I'm an alien human hybrid?"

"No, he never said," Clara flared up, "and he doesn't have to. What you are is none of my business."

"Then why are you on the edge of pulling out a crucifix?" Vivien said, eyes narrowing. "Surely in your line of work, travelling with Doctor Doolittle here, you're used to seeing stuff like me."

"It's just instinct," the Doctor sighed heavily, stepping between them, "fight or flight. She didn't mean anything by it."

"But I'm not doing anything" -

\- "The Xanthe aren't exactly friendly, Vivien," the Doctor snapped, "always giving off that I'm-going-to-conquer-your-planet vibe, a signal you're unconsciously sending out right now, hence Clara's knee-jerk response" -

\- "Okay, okay, I get the fucking point," Vivien snapped back, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, leg twitching as she shifted Lilian to her lap.

"Xanthe?" Clara queried, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"An irrelevant detail, Clara," the Doctor said offhandedly. "Now, are you a hundred per cent sure your caro sposo won't walk in on us whilst I tinker with your ticking clock?" he fired at Vivien. "I don't want a repeat of last time."

"Yeah, two regenerations down the line and your nose is still slightly squint," Vivien said nastily, eyeing the offending organ.

Clara raised both eyebrows at this.

"Her husband broke my nose way back," the Doctor explained, "nearly punched me into next week. I'm pretty sure he'd like a rerun of that momentous moment."

"I suppose he's not your biggest fan, then?" Clara hazarded, waving at Lilian, who suddenly became uncharacteristically shy, burying her face in the crook of Vivien's neck.

"The Doctor set a stripper on him last year," Vivien spat, jerking her head at the Doctor, who tried and failed to look innocent, "my stepson was getting married and some Texan tart turned up, practically sexually assaulting my husband" -

\- "I don't think he stopped running until he reached Charleston," the Doctor said almost absentmindedly. "I didn't know Tom's fear of the female species was that deep-seated."

"You should really stop your sordid little attempts to split us up," Vivien spat, rounding on him, "because it's never going to happen, Doctor."

"You trying to replace me?" Clara asked incredulously, rounding on the Doctor as well.

"No, I'm trying to make her see sense," the Doctor snapped, gesticulating wildly at Vivien, "that she deserves more and better. Tom-Tom's _ancient_. Before she'll know it, he'll be bedridden and incontinent, a burden. Vivien should be with someone dashing and brilliant, not some old oaf" -

\- "I love Tom," Vivien hissed, getting to her feet, balancing Lilian on her hip, "and he loves me. Get over it, Doctor."

"I am over it," the Doctor hissed back, advancing on her, "I got over it a long time ago. I just want you to see what Tom really is, that he's not the hero of your dreams. He's got a _paunch_ for chrissake."

"Why, does his paunch insult you?" Clara said incredulously, half wondering at herself at becoming caught up in this frankly crazy conversation.

"Everything about him insults me," the Doctor said stiffly, "he's the type of man who turns a good-bye kiss into an over the top, practically X-rated embrace, with sweeping camera shots and a 100 piece orchestra playing in the background" -

\- "He's a good father and a faithful and loving husband," Vivien said like she reciting a litany, shaking from head to foot now, "and he" -

\- "And he's only all that because at his age he's not going to get much better than you," the Doctor snapped, "some hot young thing warming his bed and bedroom slippers all in the one breath. If the price to be paid is a few brats, so be it" -

\- "Just shut up, shut up!" Vivien shrieked, making both the Doctor and Clara flinch violently, Lilian's face crumpling threateningly. " _You_ left _me_ , bloody a _bandoning_ me – we were in the middle of a war, and you just walked away without a backward glance" -

\- "No, _you l_ eft _me_ , missie," the Doctor said, grey eyes glittering dangerously, "you came to me and you said you were staying with that bearded buffoon" -

\- "Because I was pregnant" -

\- "No, this was before that," the Doctor retorted, advancing on her, "you came to me and you said you were staying with him, that it was over, that you were done with me" -

\- "It doesn't change the fact that you walked away when I needed you most," Vivien said, face completely bloodless now. "We lost our eldest daughter to the war, Doctor – we nearly lost Lilian as well" -

\- "It wasn't my fault your freak of a daughter decided to blow herself up in some misguided attempt to give you a shot at winning that goddamn war," the Doctor bellowed, "or that you decided to sacrifice yourself and your unborn child by getting skewered like a kebab" -

\- "Fuck you!"

"I return the rather crude sentiment," the Doctor said smartly, circling her, "but alls well that ends well, doesn't it? Your last act ends the war, and the last of the Dornia brings you back to life, before doing some time trickery, and voilà, we have The War That Never Was, and you and your precious Tom can sail into the sunset" -

\- "Why don't you both just SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!" Clara shouted, stamping a small foot. The Doctor stared at her, shocked, involuntarily remembering Robin Hood and a rather dank dungeon. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said suddenly, turning to Vivien, startling her by snatching her hand and enthusiastically shaking it, "I'm Clara Oswald, friend and companion of Eyebrow Boy over there, and we're to help you - if you let us." She raised her eyebrows pointedly at Vivien, who stared at her, jaw tightening, before nodding abruptly, silently surrendering.

"Well, let's see the back of your neck then," the Doctor said, avoiding Vivien's eyes as he went over to her, steering her round by the shoulders, signalling Clara to hold back Vivien's hair as he examined the tattoo. "TARDIS, now," he said suddenly, clapping his hands together, "lickety-split."


	4. Different But The Same

**Different But The Same**

 _I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else_  
 _I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same..._

Vivien hesitated in front of the blue doors, remembering another life, before stepping through them, involuntarily catching her breath at the sight of the console room, still bigger on the inside. After Moira's return from the farmer's market, she'd reluctantly left Lilian in the housekeeper's care, hurriedly explaining to the bewildered woman she had an urgent errand to run, and now here she was, back in the TARDIS, as if she had never left.

"Alright, stand over there," the Doctor ordered abruptly, gesturing imperiously to a spot at the bottom of the stairs, before pulling the computer screen towards him, "and stay absolutely still if you want your extremities to stay attached - if not, I can provide a small bag to take them home in at the end, a small courtesy which I'm sure your bearded beloved will appreciate."

"Keep that piece of space junk away from me," Vivien snapped, wrapping her arms around her abdomen, "or I'll knock you into your next regeneration."

"It won't hurt the baby," Clara said gently, instantly understanding, "I promise."

"What, you're pregnant – again!?" the Doctor said incredulously, doing a double-take. "Can your caro sposo not control himself!?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Doctor, scanner," she reminded him, making him roll his own eyes.

"Keep still," he warned again before activating it, Clara taking charge of checking Vivien's phone, offering Vivien a reassuring smile at the same time, trying not to think of Danny, what she had wanted with him, all that Vivien had, a husband and family, those imaginary babies she'd built a whole world around.

"They've wiped your phone," Clara said, forcing her thoughts to focus, studying her own screen, "everything from yesterday anyways, location data, texts, search history" -

\- "Never mind that," the Doctor said irritably, "the scan is the thing."

"And what does the scan say, oh Great One?" Clara said, rounding on him.

"Good and weird," the Doctor said, eyebrows drawing together, "but then again, that's Vivien all over."

"Thanks," Vivien retorted. "No wonder you're single – sort of. River's on the run so she doesn't count."

"I'd rather be 'sort of' single than share my hearth and home with that plonker of a professor you hitched your star to" -

\- "Scanner, Doctor!" Clara snapped.

"First up, in the last twenty four hours, you had significant contact with alien life-forms other than yourself," the Doctor fired at Vivien, "right here in the centre of London. The reason why you can't remember is because you've been Retconned" -

\- "Retcon!?" Vivien exclaimed, all the blood draining from her face. "That amnesia shit Jack uses!?"

"Don't worry, I undid the damage done," he said, gesturing to her stomach, "but if you'd been any further along, it would have been irreversible."

Vivien just stared at him, her body swaying slightly on the spot, Clara hastily going over to her, gently but firmly forcing her to sit down on the bottom step of the stairs.

"You've been Retconned before, by Handsome Jack himself no less," the Doctor said shrewdly, studying Vivien, "so I'm surprised you didn't recognize the symptoms. You're losing your touch, Holmes."

"Doctor," Clara reprimanded.

" _Anyways_ , your pre-frontal cortex is marinated in the stuff," the Doctor continued hastily, turning back to the computer screen, "I'm guessing they had to up the dosage once they realised they weren't exactly dealing with their average ape" - His voice stumbled to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening at something only he could see on the screen.

"What is it?" Vivien demanded, getting to her feet, shrugging off Clara's restraining hand. "What's wrong? Is it the baby? Oh _God_ " -

\- "No, it's – it's not the baby," the Doctor said shakily, before suddenly turning and striding around the console, snatching up a set of handwritten flashcards as he moved, grabbing Clara on the way round, all but dragging her away from Vivien.

"Don't bring out those bloody flashcards," Vivien snapped, following him, forcing him to stop and face her, "I'm not some halfwit you've just picked up" -

\- "I'm just trying to be nice" -

\- "When have you ever been nice to me, Doctor?" Vivien said tiredly, her eyes searching his face for an answer she would never find.

"And when has there been a nice way to say you're about to die?" the Doctor said quietly, making Vivien take an involuntary step backwards, her hand flying to her stomach.

"Oh," she then said, trying to recover herself, lowering her trembling hand to her side. "Well, I've been there and done that," she said shakily, "got the t-shirt..." She stared at the flashcards he was still clutching, her brow furrowing slightly. "I can't believe you've still got those damn things," she said, voice distant, "they must be falling apart now, and your handwriting was – is _appalling_ " - Without warning, she suddenly smashed the flashcards out of his hand, face feral, making the Doctor flinch. "It's not about me!" she screamed, spit flecking the air. "It's about them, the baby..." She suddenly broke down into tears, burying her face in her hands, the Doctor reaching for her before thinking twice about it.

"Let's not jump the gun, eh?" he tried to cajole. "Who's to say you're _actually_ going to die" -

\- "You did," Vivien hissed, raising her head from her hands, "you just stood there and said I was going to die!"

"And the old Vivien would have stood there and flicked me the middle finger," the Doctor said, straightening his hood. "Where is that girl, Vivien? Where did she go, eh?"

"I'm pregnant with a countdown to my death tattooed on the back of my neck," Vivien said from between tears and gritted teeth, "so excuse me for being a little upset."

"But tears and temper tantrums aren't going to win this war..." the Doctor began, striking a thoughtful pose before faltering, inspiration leaving him.

"Umm, Doctor," Clara said, tugging at his sleeve, "shouldn't we be trying to sort this out instead of trying to compose epic speeches that trail off into nothing?"

"This isn't the time for witticisms, Tiny Tim," Vivien fired at Clara, spit flecking the air, "my baby's life is on the line here – and I'm sure as hell not going to lose another child" -

\- "And we're going to make sure that doesn't happen, " Clara said smartly, refusing to be intimidated, "but it would really help if you lost that massive chip on your shoulder. You have beef with the Doctor, fine. But you don't have beef with me so just chuck the chip, alright?" -

\- "Incoming, Mephistopheles at twelve o'clock," the Doctor intoned, just as somebody banged on the doors, making Clara and Vivien jump violently. "Would you go and deal with your errant husband?" he ordered Vivien. "That's a brand new paint-job, and I don't want him marking up the wood."

Without a word, Vivien left the TARDIS, cutting off Tom's angry onslaught by slamming the doors shut behind her. The Doctor stood there for a moment, before swinging the computer screen round and thumping the side of it, making the screen spring to life, revealing an arguing Tom and Vivien, the two of them going at it like hammer and tongs.

"That's the husband, then?" Clara said curiously, studying Tom, noting the now infamous beard, albeit not being of Mephistophelic proportions. He was toweringly tall, and broadly built, his shirt half tucked into his trousers, half hanging out at the front, the fabric straining against the wide breadth of chest and shoulders, the sleeves of his tweed jacket rolled up to the elbows, revealing a pair of well-muscled forearms.

"Unfortunately, yes," the Doctor said, interrupting Clara's thoughtful contemplation of Tom's rather formidable physique, "and I bet you a mountain of marzipan Mrs. Doubtfire phoned him up to let him know I was here, his little household spy."

"The housekeeper?"

"Everytime I arrive here on one of my infamous flying visits, she looks at me like I'm Hitler reincarnated," the Doctor said dourly, "but as long as Vivien doesn't leave her sight, she holds her tongue. But I bet the cat's out the bag now, and Jesus Christ, talking of bags, would you pass me a sick-bag?" he said, grimacing as Tom suddenly kissed Vivien, shoving her up against the TARDIS, Vivien's hands sliding over his broad shoulders before gripping his greying hair. "I bet she's told him about the baby," the Doctor guessed correctly, shielding his eyes with his hand, looking like he was going to hurl as Tom then finally let go of Vivien, before falling to his knees and pressing his lips to her abdomen, his lined face worshipful as he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning the side of his head against her stomach.

"This is a mess, isn't it?" Clara said quietly, turning away from the tableau.

"It's one hell of a mess," the Doctor said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "and I don't know how to clean it up, or even the first place to start."


	5. To Come Back From Where You Came

**To Come Back From Where You Came**

"You didn't tell him, did you?" the Doctor said, folding his arms across his chest, as Clara watched Tom return back to the house, before switching the screen off.

"How could I?" Vivien said brokenly. "And you can't tell him either," she said suddenly, advancing on him. "You have to promise me you won't."

"I break my promises, most of all to you."

"If not for me, for Lilian then," Vivien said desperately, "she needs her father – if I'm not there, Tom has to be. If you tell him, he'll drop everything, including Lilian, and come rushing in here, raising merry hell, and that's not the answer."

"You can't tell him, Doctor," Clara said, turning to him, "and that's that."

"And that's me told," the Doctor said, miming a drumroll.

"You know, you're not fooling anyone," Clara said quietly.

The Doctor studied her for a long moment, dropping his hands to his sides. "You know me too well, Clara Oswald," he said just as quietly.

Clara just looked at him, a small almost sad smile playing on her lips, her steady gaze steering his soul to stiller waters.

"Can... can you save me?" Vivien said, her voice cracking, reluctant to even say such words, seeing them as weakness. "Because if you can't, just say so, instead of pussyfooting around" -

\- "Of course I can save you, Vivien Holmes," the Doctor intoned, taking her hands in his and twirling her around like they were at a tea dance, "I'll save you as long as you save me the last dance, and before you know it, I'll have you back home in time for tea."

"Oh, I'd love a cuppa," Clara agreed, rubbing her hands together, "but first of all, let's get rid of that bloody barcode, eh?"

Vivien stared at them both, too long in the tooth to be fooled by their fronts, having known the Doctor for too long, through her whole life and all of his lives, but she forced a smile on her face, since the only other option was to sit down and give up before the game even began. She had been backed into such corners before, and fought her way out, so she could do it again. But she couldn't do it alone.

"So what tall tale did you tell Tom this time?" the Doctor said, flicking a lever, making the Time Rotor rumble into life.

Vivien stood there, forgetting her folly for a moment, almost relishing the advent of adventure, listening to the familiar hum of the TARDIS as it started to freefall through time and space. "I said I was making one last attempt to build bridges with you," she said tiredly, sitting down on the bottom step again, "for old times' sake, but if you weren't prepared to meet me halfway, that was it, I was done. So I think he's praying you'll piss me off."

"Then I'll be as nice as ninepence," the Doctor drawled, offering her his approximation of a charming smile. "Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands like an audience demanding an encore. "Now off you trot, Oswald."

"What?" Clara said, confused.

"I need to talk with Trixiebelle here," he said impatiently, shooing her towards the doors, "so give me a moment and some metaphysics, hmmm?"

Clara just rolled her eyes, before doing a disappearing act, the Doctor watching her go with hooded eyes. As the doors closed behind her, he turned to Vivien, who stood up, ready to meet the storm head-on.

"We don't have time to have a heart to heart - or heart to hearts in this case," she said sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest, "I'm a ticking time bomb in case you've forgotten."

"I halted the countdown," the Doctor snapped, "but it will activate again as soon as we locate where you got that bloody tattoo. All we've got to go on is that it must be somewhere near your beloved _Boots –_ if you were travelling by foot, it must be in the local vicinity; that you had to have entered some sort of extra-terrestrial" -

\- "Enough with the minor details, Doctor," Vivien said, feigning a yawn, "what do you really want to talk about, other than my impending doom."

"About... us," the Doctor said uneasily.

"What now?"

"There's no time like the present."

"You once gave me time as a present," Vivien said from between gritted teeth, "gift-wrapped in a big blue box."

The Doctor didn't say anything, only studying her face, as familiar to him as his own many ones. He had known her for so long, too long, and maybe that was the problem, familiarity breeding contempt. She had inherited him, the Doctor watching over the child for the sake of the mother who had that smile with something of Susan in it. Alice's death had almost broken him; she had become his crutch after he forced Susan into her future, and with both of them gone, the Doctor had drifted from companion to companion, seeking what he had lost.

In between his wanderings and regenerations, he had returned to Vivien from time to time, either on purpose or by apparent accident, watching her grow up from almost afar, becoming involved against his will. Even as an infant, then a child, she had tried to break him, armed with a will as formidable as his, throwing into relief the resemblance between them, his family if not by blood, but by bond. There was nothing of Alice in her; Alice who had lived in a world of her own making, lost in silent solitude. Alice accepted the impossible without question, even when a police box crash-landed amongst her mother's best roses, a strange old man tumbling out between its blue doors, spluttering as smoke engulfed them both.

He and Vivien had become closer during his eleventh incarnation, forming an unlikely duo, the wild-child and the eccentric nomad. At this time, she was living with her boyfriend and their daughter, Alice, named after what the Doctor had lost so long ago, the Doctor making fly-by visits to their caravan at the oddest hours, bringing darkness in his wake. Vivien's future was his past, a past he was powerless to change, and he could only stand there and watch her lose everything she loved, her daughter, then the miscarriage; before ending everyone else who was entangled in her life.

The death and destruction had been wreaked by her broken time-line, an ancient power deliberately fracturing it in order to draw the TARDIS, and consequently the Doctor, to Vivien, the time-line bleeding, infecting, festering like a suppurating wound, killing everybody connected to it. It had also created echoes of the day the Doctor and Vivien had first met, explaining why they kept crossing paths, and why he'd met Alice, Vivien echoing right back along her own time-line before she was even born.

Vivien had become his companion after the miscarriage, leaving her fiancé for him, desperate to outrun her past and pain. This had been during his tenth incarnation, Vivien bitterly blaming her loss on his eleventh self, even though he'd only known because of his tenth self, only becoming aware of events during their aftermath, his knowledge second-hand. His tenth incarnation had been completely ignorant of the cause of her chaos, and consequently Vivien considered his tenth self blameless, blaming his eleventh incarnation for not trying to change her future, the Doctor spending his time twelfth time round trying to build bridges between him and Vivien, albeit rather badly. It had been the same old tired conundrum, her past his future, and now here he was, still trying to pay the piper.

Their enmity wasn't just about the past, but also what he'd done, leaving her during a war that never happened. After destroying the entity that had first drawn them together, his tenth self and Vivien had continued to travel, only to be drawn back to twenty-first century Earth again, landing in South Boston during an alien invasion, where Vivien had met her husband, who had been the second-in-command of an alien resistance movement, initially taking her and the Doctor prisoner. But the Doctor's reason for leaving during that turbulent time wasn't what Vivien believed it to be, and he was tired of lying; of bearing such a burden.

"What's the score with Mrs. Doubtfire acting as double-agent?" the Doctor asked abruptly, already knowing the answer, beating about the bush, playing for time. "Why did Tom turn up out of the blue like that?"

"What, don't like him stealing your style?"

"Just answer the bloody question."

"He told Moira about what I am," Vivien said just as abruptly, tugging agitatedly at her string of amber beads, suddenly feeling the full weight of the silver chain hidden under her jumper, "and about you."

"Why?"

"Look at me, Doctor," Vivien spat, "I don't exactly fit in, do I? As soon as I step out of the front door, the funny looks start. Moira noticed from the word go I was... different. She doesn't beat about the bush, you know, and she collared Tom about it – and he told her." She stared at the ground for a long moment, brow furrowing. "She's aware of aliens, like everybody else, but she doesn't have that fear like everyone else," she said slowly, lifting her gaze to the Doctor's, "she doesn't care about what I am, as long as I don't lie to her about it."

"So how do I fit into this fairytale?" the Doctor said scathingly. "Why did Mary Poppins go and yop on us to Tom-Tom?"

"You know why," Vivien said tiredly, "because he absolutely reviles you. He said to Moira if you ever turned up when he wasn't there, she was to call him right away. You're only allowed through the front door as it is because I sweet-talked him round."

"Oh, I know that," the Doctor snorted, "you've trained that clod to jump through hoops like he's competing in Crufts" -

\- "Why did you look like that?" Vivien said suddenly, startling him. "When you were looking at the screen, you had this weird look on your face – I've never seen you look like that before."

"I looked like that because somehow you're on somebody's hit-list," the Doctor said, keeping his face carefully blank, blocking out the memory of the Gallifreyan symbols woven through the code that constructed the countdown on the back of Vivien's neck.

"No, that look came after," Vivien challenged, "I'm talking about before. I've seen the Vivien-is-going-die-look on your faces too many times – that look was something else altogether. I – I thought it was because of the baby" -

\- "I never left just because you decided to hook up with a history professor," the Doctor said suddenly, startling Vivien this time, "I left because Alexis told me I couldn't interfere – that the war had to play out to the final act. I had no place in the proceedings, so I left."

Vivien's face paled at the mention of her dead daughter, remembering the years lost to them, Alexis aging so fast, too fast, dying before she'd even lived. _"How?"_ she whispered.

"Don't ask me to explain how she can exist before she was even born," the Doctor said, flipping a piece of imaginary fluff from his sleeve, "not unless you have a tent and a week's supply of strawberry flavoured gobstoppers. "

"Why strawberry?" Vivien choked out. "And can you even get that flavour?"

The Doctor just shrugged his shoulders. "You know better than I do that Alexis was beyond all understanding," he then said quietly, "her powers... Godlike would be an understatement."

"But she communicated with you?" Vivien said, her voice cracking. "Somehow she managed to speak to you, before everything began?" The Doctor nodded, Vivien half turning away from him, her hand flying up to her mouth. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" she demanded, the tears welling up in her eyes. "Why did you lie" -

\- "Because I didn't want you to know that your daughter deliberately divided us," the Doctor snapped, making her flinch, "I was trying to protect you to the last. She was isolating this world for the final attack" -

\- "She came back to us" -

\- "Almost too late" -

\- "Then why did you leave?" Vivien snapped, rounding on him. "Why did you fall into her trap?"

"Because believe it or not, even Time Lords have to bend the knee sometimes," the Doctor said tiredly. "She gave the order, I obeyed against my will. She had the stars on her side, I didn't, not then. There were forces greater than mine at play and I gave way before them."

"But that isn't you – you _left_ " -

 _But I came back._ "I know," the Doctor said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "but no more."

"Gallifrey falls," Vivien said in a monotone, making the Doctor's head snap up, ancient eyes suddenly alight with anger.

"What did you just say?" he hissed, grabbing her wrist, making Vivien do a double-take.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Vivien hissed back, tearing herself out of his hold.

The Doctor stared at her, before exhaling sharply and half turning away from her this time. "After I left... I saw your fate," he said abruptly, "that you didn't need me. Alexis was telling the truth – that _I had no place in the proceedings."_

"But time is in flux" -

\- "These events were always going to happen," the Doctor said, rounding on her, "a sequence of fixed points in time that started long before we arrived in South Boston. You were always meant to be taken and turned, your entire being altered" -

\- "Don't" -

\- "You were always meant to meet Mephistopheles and so forth and so forth," the Doctor said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and fore-finger again, "I was no more than your glorified chauffeur, getting you to the party on time. It was just unfortunate my absence played to Alexis's advantage."

"But if you'd stayed, if you'd challenged her, wouldn't that have changed everything?" Vivien said, her voice cracking.

"I couldn't stay" -

\- "You had to bend the knee, I get that," Vivien snapped, "but you're not answering my question" -

\- "I didn't want to die!" the Doctor yelled, making Vivien flinch, his voice echoing around the console room. "You forget I was running from those bloody four knocks during that time. That's why I agreed to you travelling with me – I didn't want to be alone, not anymore. After Adelaide... That's why I came back to you, like a child running to its mother, clinging to your skirts. With you, I could delude myself that death wasn't coming, that I could keep running – nothing would change; _I_ wouldn't change _._ "

Vivien looked away at this, biting her lip, remembering all too well.

"If I hadn't left you, Alexis would have killed me."

Vivien raised her head, those eyes as blue as police-boxes meeting his, holding his gaze.

"I didn't want to go," the Doctor said simply.

 _But it's not love that keeps me here_ _  
_ _And it's not what you want to hear…_


End file.
